Thou Shalt Not
by Grand Phoenix
Summary: Rockman is not a perfect robot. He never was and never will be. Doctor Light should have known better than that. /a MegaMan 7 what-if/


**Disclaimer:** All characters and locations belong to their respective owners.

_A/N: Another quick ONE-SHOT I did, this time based around the infamous ending sequence in Mega Man 7. According to the MM7's story analysis on The Mega Man Network website, Rock's consigned to follow the Three Laws of Robotics since it's part of his programming; therefore he wouldn't have done what he did. But for the sake of the fanfic, let's say he isn't…._

* * *

**Thou Shalt Not  
**(entitled "The Shot Heard Around the World")

* * *

Rockman was not a perfect robot.

There were times when he would return to the lab, armor battered in places and matted wires poking through the robin's egg synthetic suit – signs indicating he had carved a swath of destruction to put a damper on whatever plans Wily cooked up. Other times he would be called in for a system scan and endure hours of lying on a flat table – sometimes awake, sometimes deactivated - while the good Doctor Light fine-tuned and upgraded various parts of his body.

When there wasn't any fighting, Rockman became Rock. He'd help around the house cleaning up messy areas; dusting furniture; running errands for Auto; taking walks around the neighborhood with Rush and Beat and Tango; setting out the silverware and calling the other robots to come down while Roll maneuvered round the kitchen and got the food prepared. After that, when it looked like Roll had maintained order and didn't need him anymore, he would proceed to the labs and assist Doctor Light with whatever experiments he was working on: distilling chemicals, fetching beakers and Bunsen burners, pulling up files on the computer for the Doctor to reread or typing out documents on the progress or results of their labor, and running tests on the latest version of the Variable Tool System.

In those days things were simple. Wily may have attempted to rise from his jailed shackles and try to thwart his rival, but it didn't last long. No, not without Rockman's help. Dr. Light would tell the blue robot to put a halt to the old man's plans, and as soon as the words left his mouth he would nod his head and run out the door, Mega Buster equipped and ready to attack at the slightest movement.

Rockman obeyed his creator to the letter. Be it menial or crucial, he never hesitated when something had to be done. Rockman fought for justice and triumph over criminal activity. Doctor Light couldn't have been more proud.

And then one day his entire world collapsed.

Wily had escaped from prison again by having his Robot Masters attack the city. Doctor Light was on standby at his labs, his tools at arm's length when Rockman came back. Even when he had been injured trying to stop Bass from stealing valuable information, he put aside his pain and waited, hoping the robot he saw as a son would be alright.

Time seemed to pass too slowly for comfort. The minutes stretched into hours, the seconds into days. His pipe was filled with tobacco and he blew smoke rings from pursed lips and shaking chest.

Four hours later Rockman came in through the door, looking worse for wear. His eyes were heavy-lidded and he walked with a tired limp, but Doctor Light couldn't have been happier. He ran up to the boy-robot and hugged him as much as his aching arms allowed him. He didn't notice Rockman reciprocate the gesture as he simply leaned into the touch, but the Doctor figured his creation had to be exhausted from all the fighting he had to endure. And so he released Rockman and walked him to the nearest stasis pod—

But he saw something that made him turn the other way – down, down at his hands, wet and red and coppery along his white sleeves.

He gasps, but it is a moment's hesitation too soon.

This is….

_It is._

It can't be….

_But it is._

IT IS.

"Rock," he whispered shakily, staring down _(down)_ at wrinkled, knotted, smeared fingers. "Oh, Rock. Why? Why did you…?"

_How could you do this to me?_

"I am more than a robot," Rockman mumbled in a sleepy, drunken inflection, and he swayed on his feet, swayed his arms in little tight circles that spun cauldrons of fairy dust and children's dreams, forgotten little children's dreams. "I am more than a robot…."

"Wily." There could be no mistaking it. He was the only person who had ever openly showed his disdain for the good Doctor by force. There were those who opposed robot sentience and did not want to work side by side with their metal counterparts, but none were as more outspoken and active as the man who always got knocked down but always found the strength and stubborn will to get right back up again. He had been a friend, a rival, a colleague, and as a human being who wanted to be acknowledged for his deeds as a scientist.

Now he was gone. Gone. Like opening an urn and watching the ashes get sucked into the eye of a tornado.

"I-I-I…a-am…m-m-more th-than…a ro-robot," Rockman hiccupped, stumbled, and harshly coughed electrical sparks. "I-I a-m m-more th-th-than a r-robot…."

What was he going to do? If word got out that Wily was dead, that he was _killed by a robot_, then there would be no stopping the masses. The media would be all over it, would be talking about it on numerous networks and wring the guilt and shame from his pores like a dish sponge. The public would fear and rage, parade in the streets and demand all robots of free will be terminated. The government would call for tougher robotics laws, for sentience to be limited or even prohibited, for criminal charges to be pressed against him. And he—

How was he going to fix this? How was he going to tell Roll and Auto and everybody else that Doctor Wily, the mad scientist they had been fighting for so long, had finally been dealt with?

A soft sigh escaped his lips, and he stared forlornly at the little blue robot, on his knees and clutching at his chest.

"I am…more…than a robot," he breathed, barely audible above the sound of gears scratching at his voice box. "I…am…more…than—"

_Click._

The light faded from teal-colored eyes. Rockman's arms fell away, and like a crumbling tower he collapsed on his face, the impact of metal kissing metal echoing hollowly amid active computers and running machinery.

Doctor Light removed his hand from the boy's neck and crossed his arms behind his back. His body ached for the bittersweet taste of tobacco and nicotine, but he was instantly reminded he had spent the last of it waiting for the robot's safe return. The thought saddened him, but at that moment it was the least of his concerns. He could still save Rock. He could still save his career. He could still salvage the pieces….

* * *

Rockman is not a perfect robot. He never was, and never will be.

Doctor Light should have known better than that.

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_"Thou shalt not kill."  
_- _The Sixth Commandment, from Exodus 20:13_

_"1. A robot may not injure a human being or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm."  
2. A robot must obey any orders given to it by human beings, except where such orders would conflict with the First Law.  
__3. A robot must protect its own existence as long as such protection does not conflict with the First or Second Law."  
__- Isaac Asimov's Three Laws of Robotics_


End file.
